Star Trek: Subtext
by Beyachan
Summary: An injured Kirk returns to his ship after a dangerous and potentially deadly mission, and is surprised at the care he receives from his First Officer. Rated M Spock/Kirk Currently being re-written.
1. Be Not So Fearful

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Star Trek universe.

Summary: An injured Kirk returns to his ship after a dangerous and potentially deadly mission, and is surprised at the care he receives from his First Officer. Rated M Spock/Kirk

Currently being re-written.

Star Trek: Subtext- Chapter One

Captain James Tiberius Kirk was, temporarily at least, stranded on a barren and arid planet in a solar system far on the opposite end of the Milky Way galaxy. Never had he ever felt so far from home as he did thinking of the great blue-green sphere of Earth and how very far away it was; it was utterly out of reach to him, there, as was anything save the vague hope that he might survive this ordeal.

He could feel the dryness of the planet's atmosphere like a second skin; it sucked away any moisture it could grab on to, leaving him with a parched throat and dry, cracked lips. That was the least of his worries, though. He was alone, and he would make a tasty meal for the indigenous predators of the planet.

The 'alone' part of the equation, at least, was something he could blame someone for: himself; t was his order that had sent everyone else to beam back aboard the ship. They had initially beamed down for a simple enough task; they were to gather data on a previously unexplored planet, rock types, plant species, and the like, and send a full report back to Starfleet. Upon arriving to the planet, he'd broken the landing party off into separate groups and everyone had gone off in their appointed direction.

He'd chosen an ensign to tag along with him because he liked to get to know the younger, more inexperienced members of the crew and give them chances to prove themselves. This particular young man exemplified everything that Starfleet looked for in one of its own: strength, stamina, charisma, intelligence. Kirk was certain that one day that boy would be a captain.

The two of them headed down into the cave system that seemed to span the entire planet, and the deeper they went the colder and more damp their surroundings became. There was a point, not far from the tunnel entrance, that would have been a comfortably livable environment for animal life; they were pretty sure, however, that no such life existed down there.

It had been established, even before their ship was chosen for the mission, that the chances of there being any sort of multi-cellular animal life on the planet was slim to none. That assumption held out even under Mr. Spock's scrutiny; therefore, the landing party had beamed down expecting no trouble from anything native. But, you know what they say about when you assume...

Kirk and the ensign stopped momentarily to gather samples of a bioluminescent fungus they stumbled across in the darkness of the cave system and beam samples of it back to the Enterprise for further study, when suddenly there was some sort of noise from deeper in the cave. They looked at one another momentarily before silently getting to their feet and going to investigate; that's what they were there for after all. What they found was something similar to what Earth scientists thought the sabretooth tiger must have looked like: a large, feline creature with massive fangs that extended down past the lower jaw.

The creature saw them at the same time that they saw it, and dropped into a menacing crouch, clearly seeing them as prey, with its long, feline tail swishing behind it angrily. Looking at it, Jim Kirk had a rather Spok-like moment of clarity: the creature was built a bit like a revered hyena, with its back legs far more developed and powerful that the front, and if it were to land on one of them, it would take them down with little effort. The captain's hand dropped to his phaser reflexively, ready to fire at the creature if it attacked, when the cat let out a fierce, hungry _yowl_. What was more menacing were the answering cries from the surrounding caves.

The only thing that Jim Kirk's mind seemed to want to focus on was: _I will _not_ lose another ensign! Not here!_ He shoved the young man toward the entrance to the cave system, back in the only direction they knew was safe, and gave him his orders.

"Go! Get everyone back aboard the ship while I distract them!"

Of course, the last thing the ensign wanted to do was leave his captain there to fight off the alien creatures alone, but he couldn't very well disobey a direct order, so he took of running, praying that the captain would somehow make it through. As soon as he got out into the open, where he was relatively safe and the communicator signal wouldn't be blocked by the thick stone, he radioed Captain Kirk's orders to the rest of the landing party.

As soon as everyone was safely back aboard the Enterprise, Kirk's orders having been carried out, the officers gathered in the meeting room to debate whether or not a search party should be sent down to locate their captain. His orders had been to get everyone back aboard the ship, so sending more of the crew down wouldn't likely please him too much, but they also couldn't just abandon their captain on some barre wasteland of a planet. Eventually they came to an agreement: they would wait, but if Jim didn't contact them in twelve hours, they would send down a search party to find him.

Meanwhile, back on the planet, Jim had managed to kill two of the massive tiger that were chasing after him with some well-aimed phaser shots. The others had stopped to eat the dead. _That's a little bit disgusting, _he thought, _but at least they've stopped chasing me. Now I just need to find a way out of this mess._

After a few exhausting hours of wandering aimlessly the tunnels, he finally spotted a glimmer of daylight off in the distance. Despite blinding him temporarily with the abrupt change in light, it was a welcome change. So relieved was he to have finally found his way out of that labyrinthine hell, he forgot all caution and ran towards the light. He was nearly out of the cave when there was sudden movement behind him, accompanied by a deep growl.

Jim was startled, but not so much so that he would do something as stupid as stop to look behind him; he just threw a quick glance over his shoulder, and his eyes locked onto another tiger, this one at least twice the size of the ones that were chasing him before. Fear gave him a boost of adrenaline, accompanied by a boost of speed as his fight-or-flight reflex kicked in, and he was out of the cave before he knew it, the massive tiger still hot on his trail.

His eyes scanned his surroundings as he ran, looking for anything, anything at all that would offer him some sort of protection for at least as long as it would take to call Scotty to beam him back aboard the Enterprise. The only chance that he could see was a large hill made up of what looked to be layer upon layer of slate rock.

_Let's just hope these tings can't climb very well, _he thought, skidding dangerously as he quickly changed direction to run full-force towards the relative safety the hill offered. He knew that his hopes were likely in vain, as felines were notoriously good climbers; he could only hope that their awkward build was not made for going uphill.

He practically launched himself up the steep slope of the hill, grabbing onto anything that looked like it would offer him a handhold. He could feel the sharp bits of slate digging into the palms of his hands, but he knew that it didn't hurt nearly as bad as that creatures claws would if it got ahold of him. He didn't even bother looking behind him to see where it was; he could hear it's claws scrabbling on the slate as it tried to climb up after him.

Finally reaching the crest of the hill, he was met with a dizzying sight. Where there should have been a slope leading back to ground level, there was instead a sheer cliff with jagged bits of broken slate jutting out of the side like so many broken teeth. Or, perhaps, broken bones. He was frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do even with his sharp, inventive mind; it seemed hos only options were to turn and face the tiger behind him or jump and be dashed on the razor sharp rocks so far below. A quick glance behind him made up his mind in a hurry. The tiger was almost to the top, too. He took off running down the edge of the cliff, praying to any higher power that would listen that he wouldn't get eaten by this thing.

With a loud _"Rowr!" _the tiger launched itself at him. He threw himself to the ground, hoping it would simply sail right over his head so he could take off in the opposite direction. No such luck. As he hit the ground, the slate underneath him shifted and slid, sending him tumbling right over the edge of the cliff.

He grabbed at any jutting piece of stone he could get his hands on, trying to lessen his momentum so that he wouldn't be killed when he hit the bottom. At the same time, he was bracing himself for the impact.

When he did finally hit the ground, after what seemed like forever, there was a nasty _"crunch!"_ But, luckily, it was the slate underneath him that cracked, and not his spine. The force of him impact caused him to go into a roll, which landed him right on top of one of the sharp rocks he'd been so lucky to avoid in his initial landing. It went in deep, and Jim could only hope that it didn't puncture any vital organs.

Despite the pain, he knew he couldn't afford to lie there moaning over his injuries, not with that tiger above him, still looking to make him its next meal. With a grimace he yanked the piece of slate free of the wound, hoping to God that he hadn't contracted some kind of horrible infection, and pressed himself close against the side of the cliff, hiding in the thin shadows. He knew the creature could likely smell him, especially with the blood pouring out of his side, but he was going to do everything in his power to make himself even a little bit harder to find.

Jim pulled his communicator out of his pocket and was relieved to find that it had survived the impact. "Kirk to Enterprise. Come in Enterprise."

He was worried for a moment that he wasn't going to get an answer, that they'd assumed he was dead and left without him. His fears were assuaged, however, when he heard Mr. Scott's voice. "Aye, Captain. You ready for me to beam you up?"

"That would be wonderful, Scotty."


	2. Catalyst

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Star Trek universe.

Star Trek: Subtext- Chapter Two

Jim Kirk grimaced as he felt the transporter beam begin to take him apart. He fully understood why Bones hated the process, and he had to admit that he'd nearly panicked the first time he'd gone through it, but it was just a necessary part of life when you lived aboard a starship. Besides, as long as you kept in mind that you were going to be put together again on the other side, it wasn't so bad.

He was quickly reassembled in the transporter room of the U.S.S. Enterprise, leaving his good friend the tiger to wonder where its meal had gone.

Almost immediately upon re-materialization, he fell to his knees. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was just to fatigued to stay on his feet. All the running and the blood loss on that viciously dry planet had taken a lot out of him. The transporter operators started towards him with the intention of helping him to his feet but before they could take more than a couple steps, the door slid open with the smooth mechanical sound of panels moving on their tracks.

Jim raised his tired eyes to see his First Officer standing in the doorway with an odd look on his face; It took him a moment to realize that the expression itself wasn't strange at all, it was just the face that it was on. Spock, just for that short moment, looked concerned. Wordlessly, the Vulcan walked to him and grabbed his arm to pull him to his feet, momentarily unconcerned by his race's general hesitancy toward physical contact.

"Spock, what're you...?" Jim began.

"I am taking you to sickbay so Dr. McCoy can tend to your injuries."

He was rather surprised by how carefully and gently Spock helped him to the turbolift; though Spock was clearly not a person who took naturally to violence, Jim had seen him completely incapacitate a man just by pinching a nerve, and he had seen him pick a person up and throw them across a room. Still, Spock exemplified the pacifist nature of his race.

They stood in silence as the turbolift went to the sickbay level. Jim could feel Spock's eyes on him the entire time, and he wondered what was going on in that overly-logical head.

When the lift arrived at their floor, Spock led him into the dispensary without a word and called for Dr. McCoy. He made Jim sit on the examination table and went about pulling the tattered cloth of his uniform shirt away from the wound and being rather uncharacteristically fussy over it.

"How you manage to consistently injure yourself in such brutal ways is beyond my ability to imagine. How, exactly, did you accomplish this?"

"I, uh, slipped."

When Leonard McCoy entered the room, he stood just inside the doorway, giving Spock a pointedly disapproving look. He couldn't very well do anything with the Vulcan picking over the captain like some sort of pointy-eared mother hen. He grumbled under his breath and tapped his foot impatiently. Losing what little patience he had, he cleared his throat and said, "If you would get out of the way, I might be able to do something for him, you know."

Spock raised his head at the sound of McCoy's voice and promptly stepped out of the way, his face betraying no reaction to the doctor's admonishment. "Yes, of course." He stayed nearby and watched closely as Bones cleaned and disinfected the wound, then used a derma-regenerator to seal it shut.

"Now, Jim," he began, giving the starship captain a stern, disapproving look, "that's only healed on the surface. You need to rest until it heals the rest of the way. You hear me?"

"It's fine, Bones. As long as I'm not bleeding all over the place, it's nothing to worry about." Jim shrugged his friend off and swung his feet over the side of the table so that he could get down. The second his feet touched the floor and stress was put on the injured muscles in his side, he fell to his knees in pain. "Shit!" he cried, a hand reflexively moving to clutch at the afflicted area.

Silently, Spock knelt beside his captain and easily lifted the man from the floor, placing him back atop the table with a stern look, as if to say 'stay there this time.'

Jim grimaced, pain still shooting through all the muscles in that side of his body. He took a few steadying breaths and tried to detach himself, mentally, from the pain. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll rest," he said. "But can I at least be privileged enough to rest in my own quarters? I hate this place."

"Gee, thanks, Jim," Bones replied sarcastically. "I guess I can let you go to your quarters, since my sickbay isn't good enough for you. But take one of these before you go." He went to the wall cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of red pills, and shook on into his hand before handing it to his injured friend.

Jim gave the pill a skeptical look, wondering what it was, exactly, before tossing it into his mouth and swallowing it without water. He sighed and looked up at his First Officer. "Hey, Spock," he began, "do you think you could help me to my quarters? I... don't think I can get there on my own." He grimaced, hating the necessity of admitting his weakness, hating that he was weak to begin with.

"Of course, Captain," Spock said simply. He bent slightly and easily lifted Jim from the table, one arm on his back and the other cradled in the bend of the captain's knees. Jim thought for a moment about protesting, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good; Spock would just make a comment like 'It is faster this way, and therefore the most logical solution.'

It didn't take long in the turbolift to get to Jim's floor and they didn't run into anyone on the way, either; Jim was incredibly thankful for that much. Having to be carried to his quarters wouldn't do much for his reputation. The door slid open and then shut behind them. Spock lay the captain on his bed as carefully as he was able and moved to the edge of the room to stand rigidly, keeping his eyes trained on his commanding officer.

"Spock? Why don't you sit down and relax. I'm not going anywhere, and you're making me anxious, hovering like that."

"Your anxiety is illogical, sir. I am merely making certain that you are alright." Spock replied, staying where he was, his hands clasped behind his back.

The pill Bones had given him began to kick in; he could feel the pain reliever working its way through his bloodstream and into the sore and damaged muscles. It made him feel sleepy and irritable, and he rolled over onto his injured side to face away from the Vulcan. "Fine, stay there if you want. Frankly, I don't give a damn."

Immediately, Spock stepped forward and placed a hand carefully on Jim's shoulder, pulling ham back to lay on his back again. "You should not lay on your injured side, Captain. You could injure it further in your sleep."

"What do you care?" he snapped, the medicine making him disagreeable, like a sick child. Despite his protest, he stayed where he was put because he knew that Spock was right.

"...I do not wish for you to injure yourself further, Captain."

"Hmph!" he huffed, turning his face to stare at the wall. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. "It's almost like you care or something..." he mumbled before drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	3. Quicksilver

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any part of the Star Trek universe.

"_And I could not allow my eyes to meet his deep fear that my soul may still betray me; as if my will had always kept me steady, as if I hadn't caved in already. Quicksilver..."_

-Quicksilver, by Roper

**Star Trek: Subtext- Chapter Three**

Jim's sleep-hazed eyes opened and focused shakily on the digital readout on the table beside his bed. It was early morning on the ship, Alpha shift. He should be on the bridge already. He wondered for a moment why no one had bothered to come and wake him, but quickly remembered the situation at hand when he tried to sit up and a bolt of pain shot through his body, starting at the site of the puncture wound and extending in both directions to either end of his spine.

"Ow, damnit," he muttered, laying back on his pillows. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying himself; when he opened them again, the first thing they lit upon was Spock, still keeping vigil, standing against the wall. The previous day's conversation came back to him, and he kicked himself mentally. "Shit, Spock. I'm sorry; I made an ass of myself yesterday. That was completely uncalled for."

"No apology is necessary, Captain," Spock replied calmly. "You were under the influence of Dr. McCoy's medication."

"No, it's completely necessary. I'm the captain of a Starfleet ship, and I can do better than to snap at people just because I'm feeling bitchy."

"...Your apology is accepted, Captain."

Jim nodded, pleased, and tried once again to sit up; he immediately laid back again, suppressing a pained gasp. Spock raised an eyebrow at him, questioning, and he explained, "Still hurts."

Spock nodded. "That is to be expected. You should remain in bed until you are have completely recovered."

The last thing Jim Kirk wanted to do was stay in bed; he had a ship to run. There were reports due back to Starfleet, including the one he needed to write on yesterday's encounter. But, he admitted, it was Spock's job as First Officer to make sure that he was in fit condition to command, and so he had every right to confine him to bed if that was what was needed. "Yeah, alright," he conceeded.

Jim turned his head towards the Vulcan, giving him a good once-over. He thought Spock was acting a little strange; it was uncharacteristic of him to be so worried. It was going well above and beyond the call of duty for Spock to stay at his bedside, and it just wasn't something that the Vulcan would usually do. "...Spock? Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, sir. Why do you ask?"

"You're just acting a little odd."

"I am behaving no differently than usual, sir."

"I thought Vulcans couldn't lie."

Spock stiffened even more, if that were possible, and just a trace of faint green blush crossed his cheeks. Clearly, Jim had struck a nerve.

"Are you going to stand there like that all day? Sit down."

"Is that an order, sir?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If it has to be. Sit."

Jim watched him walk across the room to retrieve a chair from the desk, which he then brought over to the side of the bed. Even seated, Spock remained stiff, uncomfortable. _'Course it would be illogical of me to think that a Vulcan would slouch,_ he thought to himself and worked to hide an amused smile.

"So, what's bothering you, Spock?"

"As I have previously stated, sir, nothing is 'bothering' me."

"Then why are you in here babysitting me when I'm sure you have more important things to be doing? It's not like you."

Spock turned his face away from his captain and didn't respond at first. "...I was worried about you, sir."

"That's just what I mean! I thought Vulcans weren't supposed to have emotions like 'worry'. So what's the deal, Spock?"

"...I do not know."

The corners of Jim's mouth twitched as he tried to restrain a smirk. He was beginning to think that the supposedly emotionless Vulcan may actually care about him, and just the thought of it stroked his ego.

"What do you mean, you don't know? You don't know why you were worried about me?"

"That is correct."

"Well, Spock, generally when you're worried about someone it means you care about them."

"...I see."

Unable to resist any longer, Jim flashed him a big grin. "Do you care about me, Spock? You do, don't you?"

"I am... unsure," Spock said, frowning ever so slightly in thought. "The way you use the term leads me to infer that we have varying definitions of what it is to care. Certainly I do feel friendship for you, but I do not know if 'caring,' by your definition of the word, is constituted within that. Do humans generally care about their friends?"

"Well, yeah. That's part of being friends."

"Ah. Then... Yes. I suppose I do care about you, sir."

"Good!" Jim grinned, pleased to have gotten such a candid response. He was sure that no one else would ever get Spock to admit to being their friend.

Spock glanced over at him with a curious look on his face. "And you, sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you care about me, Captain?"

"Of course I do! You and Bones are my two best friends!"

"Bones is your friend?" Spock asked, looking genuinely surprised. "I do not feel friendship for Dr. McCoy."

Jim chuckled, understanding. "Well, I know he gives you a hard time, but he wouldn't do it if he didn't like you. You don't see him calling any of the other crew members hobgoblins, do you?"

"I suppose not, Captain."

"Jim."

"Hmm?"

"Call me Jim. We're not on the bridge, so there's no reason to be so formal."

"..." Spock looked somewhat uncomfortable, and that faint blush had crept into his cheeks again. "I would prefer not to. May I call you 'Kirk' instead?"

"Well, I would prefer that you didn't, but it is better than Captain, I suppose. Why are you acting like this all of a sudden, anyway? You've never had a problem with calling me Jim before, so why now?"

"I feel that it would be overstepping our professional boundaries."

"Why?" he asked, a little exasperated. "We're not in a professional situation; w'e're in my _bedroom. _I'd say this situation is decidedly _personal."_

Spock quickly looked away, clearly uncomfortable now, and blushed a slightly darker shade of green; it made Jim feel a little bad for pressing the matter, and he wanted to lighten the mood a bit. He didn't like Spock being so... _awkward_ around him. He smiled reassuringly at his First Officer, saying, "Hey, why don't you go get us some breakfast and bring it back down here? We can eat together. If that's alright with you, that is," he added.

"As you wish, Capt... Kirk," he corrected himself, standing. Every motion he made as he left the room was carefully calculated to be as graceful and equivocally Vulcan as possible, lest he give away the turmoil going on within his mind. When the door to Jim Kirk's room slid shut behind him, he increased his pace a bit, focusing on the movement to distract his mind from other things.

Once Spock was out of the room, Jim took the advantage of the moment and slid out of the bed, grimacing at the pain in his side. Using the wall as support he managed to get to the bathroom without injuring himself further


End file.
